


Thrimidge Day

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beltane, Dwarf/Hobbit Relationship(s), Dwarf/Hobbit Sex, F/M, Fertility Rituals, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Inspired by "The Mists of Avalon", M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Orgy, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Post-Hobbit, Prostate Milking, may day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-13 14:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18033107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: Bilbo returned to the Shire, thinking that Thorin, Fili, and Kili had died in battle. One year later, he finds out they survived.Mentioned Dwalin/OriMentioned Drogo/PrimulaFili/Original Female CharacterBilbo/Thorin





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is this...is this my 100th fic? 
> 
> *checks story count* 
> 
> It IS!!!! :D It is my 100th fic! Enjoy!

Drogo thumbed through the papers Bilbo had set in front of him, leaning back in the armchair and feet supported by an ottoman.

“So…I have to know all this?”

“Unfortunately,” Bilbo said, smiling lightly.

Selecting a relative still along the main branch but further out wasn’t how most went about things, but the idea of marrying for the sake of having an heir left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse was the idea of letting the Sackville-Bagginses get Bag End instead.

Let alone watch them become the head of the Baggins family.

No.

That would not do.

“Well, then,” Drogo sighed. “I’ve some work cut out for me.”

“It’s not that bad and it’s not as though I’m going to die anytime soon.” Drogo arched a brow at him. “What? I’m not planning on running off into the blue again.”

“Sure.”

“Really!”

“How well planned was your adventure?”

Not planned at all. Well, on the Dwarves’ end it was as planned as it could be. For him, it certainly was _not_ planned.

“All right, you’ve got a point,” Bilbo sighed. “I’ll at least try to hold off on any more quests and journeys until you’re confident being the next family patriarch.”

Drogo winced, hissing. “Ooh…not a pleasant thought.”

“But do you want Otho and his ilk taking over?”

“That’s even more distasteful.”

“My point exactly.” Bilbo set a tea tray down on the coffee table. “It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

“Yes, but your father started grooming you as the family patriarch when you were still a fauntling.”

“I was barely twenty,” Bilbo said. “Hardly a fauntling anymore.”

“Whatever you say, Cousin…though, are you absolutely sure it should be me? I’m a bit too far removed from the main family line.”

Drogo was the grandson of Largo Baggins, Bilbo’s great-uncle and the second younger brother of his own grandfather, Mungo.

“Not so far removed that your name is not Baggins,” he said. “Besides, have you any idea how many blasted relatives I _have_? And how many of them _didn’t_ try to rob me blind while I was away?”

Drogo’s parents, Fosco and Ruby, had helped him get his belongings back without having to resort to violence, which Bilbo was close to acting on – particularly when it came to the SBs. Most of his relations on his father’s side didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

He couldn’t think of any other way to suitably thank them. And it also took care of some rather annoying issues that, likely, will still be questioned.

“So really, I can’t think of anyone better suited. Besides, you’ve still your reputation and respectability. Mine’s shot. Done for. Pushing daisies.” He sat down on the loveseat with a cup of tea and a large grin. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I only ask because the Chub-Bagginses aren’t so bad.”

“No, but I do not think Falco would be able to fend against the SBs.”

“Good point. They’d likely try to bully him into giving them the house anyway.”

“And title. And everything that goes with the name of Baggins, letting it go down the drain. I’m quite certain I made the best decision. Now you need to trust me, Drogo. I wouldn’t have decided to name you my heir if I wasn’t anything less than certain you were the best choice.”

Drogo nodded. “I’ll try, but I think most are going to think me madder than you for accepting.”

“Everyone is mad in some way or other. You’ve not seen _true_ madness. It’s…” he swallowed as his throat tightened. As if fingers were closing around his neck…Bilbo sighed. “It’s not a pretty sight. It’s terrifying when you encounter true madness.”

_It will bleed you dry and break you into thousands of pieces._

“Bilbo?” He looked up, meeting Drogo’s worried gaze. “Are you all right?”

Bilbo nodded. “I’m as well as I can hope to be. I witnessed a lot of unpleasant things when I was on my adventure. I saw trolls, spiders, orcs, goblins, and creatures none of have seen before and that have no other name than the one they gave themselves. But none of it frightened me as much as witnessing madness overcome…”

He cleared his throat, trying to relieve the tightness. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It couldn’t have been easy watching that,” Drogo said. “I am sorry that you lost him, Bilbo.”

Not many knew his preferences. Only select relatives he trusted were privy to his secret. Drogo and his parents among those he trusted most. Especially these days.

“Well, it’s over with and he’s gone,” he said. “What use is it to dwell on what can’t be changed?”

“It’s okay to mourn someone you love.”

“Loved.”

“Still love.”

“Aren’t you courting another cousin of mine?” Bilbo said, switching topic. He didn’t want to discuss his own love life, or lack thereof, and if Drogo wanted to discuss matters of the heart, he can be the one who gets interrogated. “Prim Brandybuck, right?”

Drogo flushed. “It’s not…not really a courtship. I mean…it’s arranged more than that. I’m not…I’m expected to…you’re cruel, Bilbo.”

Bilbo laughed. There wouldn’t be a wedding for some time. No. Primula was a tween. They wouldn’t court until she was thirty-three – eleven years in the future – and they wouldn’t marry until at least a year after that.

Most arranged marriages were like that. Most of the time, they ended up lucky and wedded a person that they liked and eventually grew to love.

But then there were incidents like Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. If ever there was a match made in Mordor…Otho used to be bearable, until he was arranged to marry Lobelia.

Originally, it was supposed to be Bilbo who would marry her. Grandpa Mungo was intent on the match. Except his parents – thank Yavanna – would have none of it! How long they knew he was differently inclined, they never divulged. Only that they had known, and they would welcome his chosen partner (Bungo did say he’d prefer it to be a Hobbit, but so long as he was happy…).

As it was, Primula was an excellent choice for Drogo, and vice versa. In fact, the budding relationship mirrored Bilbo’s parents in some ways. Except for the arranged marriage part. Bungo and Belladonna had truly been as One, like in Dwarven fairy tales.

Whether Primula and Drogo would blend and complement each other as easily as Belladonna and Bungo had remained to be seen. Still, it’d be nice symmetry, in its own way.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let it go if you will.”

“Agreed.”

“Good. Have some tea before it goes cold.”

#

Nights were the worst.

The darkness closed in. The wind whistled outside, even on gentle summer nights. Bilbo would spend as many hours as he could awake. If he closed his eyes, let himself dream, his dreams would become memories. Memories would become nightmares.

Most of the time, it worked that he’d be so tired, that he’d not dream at all.

Not this night…

He was standing on the parapet with the company.

The Arkenstone glimmered in the late autumn sun, held high in Bard’s hand so it could be seen easily. He’d tell them why he did it and Thorin would seize him, shaking him, shouting at him.

He could see the anger and the betrayal.

The thin veil of heartbreak breaking through the madness.

Thorin’s hands closed around the lapels of Bilbo’s coat and he lifted him up with ease over the banister.

The grip loosened…

And he woke, gasping and shaking.

Crying.

Bilbo sighed and went to make something stronger than tea to ease his nerves. He avoided looking in any reflection of his own.

He didn’t want to see his fatigue, nor his heartache.

The clock on the mantlepiece read five o’clock.

Morning.

Early morning, but not so early that it was ridiculous.

Bilbo cooked an early breakfast and went through the motions of the morning. He’d feel more himself in a little bit. After he washed and dressed, Bilbo went to have an early morning smoke, watching the sun crawl over the mountains and into the sky, beaming and bright.

He was starting to feel more like himself by the time the rest of Bagshot Row was waking and venturing outside. He’d nod his head at those who acknowledged him and ignored those who ignored him first.

He went back inside to make something quick for second breakfast, humming softly some of his favorite songs as he worked, feeling much better.

The dreams might come and go, but he was sure he’d overcome them. One day, they may not torment him anymore. So long as he remembered that they were just that: dreams and memories. There was nothing to be done about them.

After second breakfast, he welcomed Holman Cotton and Hamfast Gamgee into his garden to work as he went to check on his tenants. He did this weekly, to assess any damages that needed attention. He’d have a cup of tea, a short chat, and sometimes invite, or be invited, to a meal later in the week.

It was monotonous and entirely…dull.

He was back before luncheon and invited his gardeners inside to share some of the wares he was gifted with on his rounds. They talked about the latest news and gossips that had traveled to Hobbiton.

“Dwarves have been a moving from the West,” Hamfast said around a bread roll. “Great caravans of them.” Bilbo hummed. The weather was now best for travelling.

“I don’t think you need worry, lad,” he assured Hamfast. “They’re probably of Erebor, so of course they’ll be heading on back East to the mountain. I daresay they deserve to go home.”

“May their journey be swift,” Holman said around a tank of mead. “Some are actually cutting through the Shire.”

“As long as no one is being attacked, I don’t see why that’s worrying,” Bilbo pointed out, frowning. “Dwarves are a gruff bunch, but they aren’t going to attack anyone if they are not provoked. And if any fauntlings have it in their heads to cause Dwarves mischief, well…” he shrugged. “No one needs to worry. The Dwarves won’t dare harm a child of any race.”

“I suppose you know better than most, Mister Bilbo,” Holman sighed. “Still, I don’t think most like it. Dwarves are violent, aren’t they?”

“They are warriors, for sure,” he said. “But they aren’t violent by nature. More by necessity. They are craftsmen first and foremost. Hardworking and steadfast in all they do. They don’t do anything by half.”

His gardeners exchanged glances. Bilbo smiled.

“I admit I miss my Dwarves. They were the greatest friends I could have hoped for, but I’m sure they’re too busy making the mountain livable again. I can’t blame them. They’ve no reason to come back West. Certainly not so soon.”

“But you wish you stayed,” Hamfast said resolutely.

“Ham!”

Bilbo stared at Hamfast. Not yet a tween, but not much of a fauntling anymore. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But ultimately, I doubt I’d have been able to stay anyway.”

After luncheon, Holman sent Hamfast back out into the garden, apologizing profusely on his behalf. Bilbo assured him that he didn’t take offense. Hamfast was right. He did wish he had stayed, but in the end, there wasn’t really any reason for him to stay in Erebor.

Not after everything that happened.

Around three o’clock, his gardeners left for home. Bilbo went to prepare his kitchen for tea, selecting a suitable tea blend and ingredients for a complimentary food dish. He had finished setting the table when the clock struck four – the old grandfather clock chiming with three loud knocks followed quickly by the sound of the door opening.

“He said we didn’t need to knock, you dolt!”

“To _you_ ,” replied another. Bilbo’s heart nearly stopped. “Not to _us_.” Bilbo set down everything he had and ran to the hallway.

Kili was hanging up his cloak, as was Fili. Bofur spied him first and engulfed him in a back-cracking hug.

“Good to see you, Lad!”

Bilbo embraced him back, grinning. “And you. I’m afraid I’m a bit unawares, but you know where the pantry is. Help yourself.”

“Gladly. Nori! Little help.”

“On it.” Bilbo caught him around the arm, pulling free one of his silver keepsakes, arching a brow. Nori beamed. “Old habits.”

“Ha! Likely story,” he said, letting him go. He turned to the young princes. “Well? Do you want a hug yourselves or not?”

The boys tackled him, hugging him tightly. Bilbo did not have Dwarven strength, but he held on just as tight as they did him. “I thought you both died,” he mumbled.

“Almost,” Fili said.

“We were close,” Kili added.

“Then how?” Bilbo asked.

“That’s…” they fell silent and Bilbo hummed.

“One of your many secrets?”

“Yeah,” Fili said.

“Sorry.”

“We would tell you if we could.”

“I know. I don’t care. Whatever it is, I offer it my thanks. If nothing else, the two of you deserve long lives.” The boys exchanged a look and grinned.

“Uncle’s alive, too,” Kili assured him. “And is on his way with Balin and Dwalin.”

“Is that all right?” Fili asked. “Only, he isn’t sure he’s welcome.”

Bilbo leaned against the wall. “Thorin’s alive?” Fili and Kili nodded. Bilbo wanted to run. He wanted to see him again. To hit him for putting him through such a scare and for making him think he was dead! To kiss him because he was alive, and he had come back!

But he couldn’t. He had guests. He needed to stay and be a good host. He exhaled. “How many of the company should I expect?”

Fili beamed. “Everyone.”

“Except Gandalf,” Kili said. “You know wizards…”

“Then why are we standing around for?!” Bilbo snapped. “Help me get the dining room table set!”

Fili and Kili followed him to the dining room and they pulled the table out, setting fourteen chairs around the table. After that, Bilbo made sure his antique pottery was out of their hands – who were to say they’d survive another round of _blunt the knives_? He didn’t want to find out.

He went to greet the others who had entered the house, enlisting Bombur’s and Dori’s help to cook dinner. He’d break once or twice to check on the Dwarves filing into his living room, laughing, joking, smoking, and drinking. He found himself in more than one strong arm hug and back slaps than may be necessary, but he couldn’t complain.

He counted ten.

The door was still open, awaiting his last three guests. Bilbo excused himself to check outside. They were here, in the street still. Thorin’s arms were crossed and his brow furrowed as Balin spoke to him quietly. Once, Bilbo would think he was angry. It was certainly his default expression: angry.

But he wasn’t angry. He knew him better now. Thorin was worried.

Did he still feel guilt for what had transpired between them?

Well, even if he did, Bilbo wasn’t going to turn him away.

Dwalin caught his eye once and grinned. He tapped Balin’s shoulder and the elder of Fundin’s Sons turned to him.

“Bilbo!”

“You best get inside before Bombur decides to eat everything,” he said, returning the grins and embraced them both. After releasing Balin, Bilbo smiled at Thorin gently. “That includes you, Thorin.”

Thorin met his gaze, still frowning. “We need to talk.”

 _Blunt as ever._ “I agree.” Bilbo clapped his hands behind his back. It was either that or do something he might later regret. He still didn’t know if he would rather hug him or hit him and he certainly didn’t want to do the latter in the middle of the street. “But for now, go eat. Rest. We’ll talk once everyone’s settled in for the night.”

Thorin nodded and followed Bilbo inside. Once everyone was inside, Bilbo shut the door and joined them at the table. They laughed, threw food, and ate. Drinking and burping in tandem. Just being maddeningly unruly. Bilbo might not have been one to join in on the cruder games, but he wasn’t against laughing along with them.

After a rather early dinner, pottery started to fly as they sang and cleaned. Bilbo just leaned back and watched with amusement.

“Last time you were quite frazzled, Laddie,” Balin said.

Bilbo beamed at him. “This time, no one is tossing around my antique pottery or crockery. I’ll be all right if someone breaks one of these dishes. They’re replaceable.”

He let them have some of his alcohol as he went to prepare the many guest rooms that were installed. Rooms that were supposed to be for siblings he never had.

Even so, they were given use, letting the dwarves decide which room they preferred. Some, he noticed, shared with others not family – Dwalin and Ori, for instance, retreated rather quickly into one room. Bilbo decided he’d rather not know.

Or rather that it was best not to mention anything where Dori could hear.

Some joined him for supper at eight o’clock, having a lighter meal or a drink if they weren’t hungry – the only one who happened to join him fully in the meal was Bombur. After that, they bade goodnight, agreeing to tell him more in the morning.

It was near eleven at night when he and Thorin were finally alone.

He was outside again. The sky was cloudless. Stars twinkled brightly overhead, and the moon bathed the Shire in a pale glow, pure as mithril.

Bilbo met him on the bench.

“So,” he said, lighting his pipe. “You wanted to talk.”

Thorin sighed. “I did. I do.” He faced Bilbo, still as dour as he was when Bilbo sent him inside to eat. “I owe you more than a feeble apology given when I thought my time was ending.”

“Feeble?” Bilbo asked, brows arching. “I didn’t think it was feeble.”

“It was. I owe you more than my words can convey.”

“The only thing I am owed is an apology for not writing me. Even if it were just to tell me you were alive, it would have been nice to get something from you and the lads.”

“How was I to explain this?”

“Fili and Kili told me it’s one of your Dwarrow secrets,” he said. “That’s all I need to know, and I understand that that’s all that can be said on the matter of how you and they survived.” Bilbo blew a smoke ring. It floated into the air. “For a year and a half now, I thought you three had died in battle.”

“And as soon as we were able, we came back for you,” Thorin said. “We did not stop to write letters. I’ve hardly had any time for anything more than to write my name or press my seal into wax.”

“I see. Needed a holiday?”

“In a way,” Thorin said. “I’ve abdicated the throne.”

Bilbo sucked in a breath and coughed, inhaling to much smoke. Thorin took his pipe from him and rubbed his back. Once Bilbo stopped coughing, he glared at Thorin, waiting for his explanation.

“Fili is ready. Even if he doesn’t feel he is, he won’t go through it all alone. Balin will help him, as will Gloin. For now, his mother resides in Erebor as acting regent.”

“I thought you came to get me.”

“No. I said we came back _for_ you. We all missed you. But I alone have no intention of returning to Erebor after this visit.”

“Thorin,” he began. Bilbo silenced when Thorin pressed their foreheads together.

“I could not stop you from leaving, but I understand you thought I had passed to the halls of my fathers. I do not blame you for thinking that. We have not always been forthcoming with you and for that, I am sorry. But I am not going back to Erebor without you and I do not believe for a second that you would want to return.”

“I went with you to help you get Erebor back! And you got it back, so why did you decide to leave? I’m not worth that, Thorin.”

Thorin shook his head. “You are worth far more to me than you know, Bilbo,” he said. “If I had not abdicated the throne, would you have come with me back to Erebor? Would you have allowed me to court you, properly? Would you marry me then?” He sighed. “No. I cannot see how you would trust me again if we went back to Erebor. You’d always be cautious around me, never knowing if I’d fall so low again as I was in the gold sickness. I cannot bare that, Bilbo. I love you too much. Thorin the King betrayed you, dishonored you, and tried to kill you, so I come to you again, only as Thorin Oakenshield, and I ask you for a second chance I am certain I do not deserve.”

Bilbo swallowed. His throat was tight again. “And if I say I will not take you back, where will you go?”

“Bree, maybe. Or further west. There’s always a place in need of a blacksmith,” Thorin said.

He didn’t even hesitate in his answer.

Bilbo shook his head. “I want you to stay,” he said. “I’m upset you thought it all right to leave me thinking you were gone. I thought it’d be years before we met again in death and even then…”

Thorin closed his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“I forgave you already, silly fool,” Bilbo reassured him. “You don’t need to apologize again for the same transgressions that we are already past. Well, I’m past them. And I am willing to help you get past them, too.” He ran his fingers through Thorin’s hair. “I think it’s only fair that I do the courting this time, hm? If you don’t mind.”

At last Thorin was smiling. It was a small smile, but it was a smile, nevertheless. “I don’t mind,” he said. “Tis more than I dared to hope for.”

“Then come inside, Thorin,” Bilbo said, standing. He held his hand out. “We’ve still much to discuss, but for now, you should get some sleep.”

#

News of the Company’s arrival spread quicker than Bilbo thought possible. He had to fend off nosy neighbors and ridiculous relatives almost the whole morning. Many thought he was going off on an adventure again. He half thought it’d be a good idea, if only to get away from all the madness.

Even so, he reassured as many as he could that _no_ , he was _not_ going on another quest. They were just visiting and _no_ , he didn’t know how long they’d stay, but they were welcome to stay for as long as they liked for all he cared.

Drogo stopped by before the end of the week for whatever lesson Bilbo had for him. Introducing him as his heir was at first met with some caution till he explained that they were distant cousins, not parent and child.

“It’s not common,” he said. “By anyone’s standards, but I can’t name anyone better suited to take over as the head of my family after my time.”

“But you’re still young,” Dori declared.

“I’m middle aged,” he said. “And am expected to have married and had a child by now. But that’s not for me. I’m perfectly happy with leaving all that to Drogo and his own descendants when the time comes around for me to snuff it.”

“Will you not be so morbid?” Drogo snapped at him, frowning.

“Eh, you’ll get used to it,” Fili said. “Thorin’s the same with me and Kili.”

“I am not!” Thorin declared, affronted.

“How many times had you accused us of sending you to an early grave?” Kili asked, beaming. “By my count, it’s at least once a week since Fili turned forty.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I hardly think that the madness you two get into will do me in if it hasn’t already. All I can hope is that you grow out of it before you’re first century.”

Kili hummed. “That’s not for another twenty-three years, dear Uncle.”

“Near eighteen for me,” Fili added with a nod.

“And we still do what you call madness.”

“Shenanigans.”

Thorin glared at them. “Don’t make me regret abdicating, Fili.”

Fili grinned. “Me? Never. Kili, though…”

Kili shrugged.

“Well, let’s hope never to find out.”

Kili pouted at glared at his brother. “Mean.”

“That’s my job.”

Balin sighed. “Are you sure you want to abdicate, Thorin?”

“I trust you’ll keep them in line,” Thorin said. “And you know where to find me if I’m needed. Though, don’t expect me to manage to get there in less than four months.”

“At least your sister will still be around to help me keep these two in line, if nothing else.”

Fili clapped his hand to his chest. “Balin, you wound me,” he said. “If my esteemed uncle thinks I’m ready, then by Mahal, I am ready.”

They turned to Thorin, who exhaled. “I think I’m going to need something a little stronger than ale.” Fili and Kili exclaimed hurt and outrage as the rest of the company laughed merrily as Thorin made a tactical retreat for Bilbo’s wine cellar.

“Don’t run from us!” Kili shouted as he and his brother raced after Thorin.

“Are you sure they’re his nephews?” Drogo asked Bilbo. “Seem to act as if he’s their father.”

“Oh, he’s their uncle, all right,” Dwalin answered him. “But he did raise them, too, after their father passed.”

“One could argue that, as they are his heirs, he did in a sense adopt them. It would not be completely remiss to call Fili and Kili his sons,” Balin pointed out.

“Aye, but as they were born of his sister…”

“True, true.”

“I apologize if I seem rude for asking,” Drogo said, “But I was wondering how long you all plan to stay? It’d be nice for everyone to meet you all and the best way to do that would be at the Summer Solstice (1) celebration in midsummer.”

“Oh, we’ll be long gone by then,” Balin said with a hint of sorrow.

“Which is fine,” Bilbo said, “Because they’ll at least be around for the Thrimidge Day Bonfires.” (2)

“Are you sure about that, Bilbo?” Drogo asked, frowning. “Not everyone is able to adequately appreciate and accept that holiday.”

“Why not?” Ori asked.

Bilbo grinned. “It’s tradition for those who have reached their majority and older to partake in a sort of one-night marriage. Particularly if you’re unattached. Usually done outside under the stars.”

“There’s also usually a young man and a young lady chosen to represent Aulë and Yavanna coming together as husband and wife,” Drogo added. “The sex that happens that night is to honor the fertility of the earth and any child conceived then is named a child of the Fire. They usually grow up to become priests and priestesses of Yavanna.”

“But they don’t have to,” Bilbo said. “Drogo, for instance. is such a child, but he is not a priest.” He grinned at the shock the others had. “It’s a tradition and you’re welcome to participate if you like, but as far as I know, only Hobbits have this celebration.”

“Orgy, you mean,” Dori said.

“Did you ever participate in them, Bilbo?” Ori asked, a bit more curious than Dori might have liked.

Bilbo shook his head. “I’m a homosexual, so even if I wanted to, I’m afraid I’d not be able to adequately enjoy that part of the celebrations as it’s meant only to be male and female coming together as one. There’s more to it than ritual coupling, though. There’s feasting, dancing, drinking. It’s all a merry celebration. And the _orgy_ , as Dori decided to label it, is only for consenting adults. Emphasis on _consenting_ and _adults_. No one’s obligated to participate in that. Some couples even prefer to just enjoy the night with each other in the comfort of their own bedrooms.”

“You said that your cousin’s a…what did you call it?” Bofur asked.

“A child of the Fire,” Drogo said. “Conceived during a Fertility Ritual on the night of the Thrimidge Day Bonfires. Bilbo, though…weren’t you conceived from a different fertility ritual.”

Bilbo nodded. “For the returning of the Sun,” he said. “That one’s always indoors because it’s too damn cold to dare anything outside. Children conceived around that time are the Children of the Dawn and the mother must have gotten pregnant between dawn of first Yule and dusk of second Yule. It’s much rarer as the Yule days are often with family and you don’t really want to be walked in on by nosy mothers or curious cousins…”

“And with him having…what? Eleven uncles and two aunts on his mother’s side alone…one wonders,” Drogo said, smirking. Bilbo cuffed the back of his head.

“Shut it, you, before I decide to hand over the family name and title to Dudo instead.”

Drogo snorted. “As if you would.”

“Woud it be all right for me to write it down?” Ori asked. “Only, there’s not much known about Hobbits as it is…”

“Of course,” Bilbo said.

“We certainly don’t mind,” Drogo added. “We don’t make a habit of keeping it all secret. Most of the other folks around just don’t seem to mind leaving us be, so they tend to just leave us alone and we leave them alone.”

“Hobbits are perfectly content to be ignored and ignore the outside world in turn.” Bilbo filled the bell of his pipe and lit it. “It’s not like we really try to do it or think about it. It just…how we are. But we aren’t against answering questions about our culture and the things we are passionate about. Ask anyone you like, but don’t be discouraged if they’re a little…erm…nervous or rude at first. We Hobbits tend to be a bit cautious in who we associate with outside our own.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ori said with a bright grin.

#

Ori’s inquiries were, at first, not well received. Some were unsure what to think of a Dwarf showing curiosity about their…

Racier traditions and customs.

Bilbo, and Drogo, reassured their neighbors and friends that the Dwarves had nothing more or less than a healthy curiosity and interest in learning.

Apparently, some of the Dwarves Bilbo knew were interested (and some more than interested) in participating in the Thrimidge Day festivities.

Once certain they had nothing to fear, several Hobbits opened to explaining the festival’s history as well as the other seven festivals that happened throughout the year – two for each season.

Even Fili and Kili found themselves interested in the festival. Bilbo found them reading up on some of the customs with Ori.

“Is it normal for the two selected to be Yavanna and Mahal to wear masks?” Fili asked.

Bilbo nodded and hummed, not looking up from his writing desk.

“Those two are meant to invite the god and goddess into themselves and their physical union is as husband and wife reunited. The masks ensure their meeting is with each other, even when taking over the body of the two chosen to represent them. It’s all symbolic, of course.” He frowned and turned to Fili. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Fili blushed. “Well, Kili and I went to meet with the Thain. I’m the king, now, so I need to do that. We might have mentioned we were…thinking about attending the evening part of the celebration. I may have mentioned my own position and he asked if I’d like to have the part. I wasn’t expecting it, but…”

“Oh, well, it makes sense,” Bilbo said. “Usually the young lady and young man chosen to be Aulë and Yavanna are from our wealthier families. That you’re a Dwarf, and therefore a child of Aulë, and a king of Dwarves, perhaps made my cousin think it a good idea. But, most importantly.” Bilbo leaned back in his seat. “Do you want to do it? There’s no shame in saying no.”

Fili shrugged. “I don’t mind taking part in it,” he said.

“But?”

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea. I’m not a Hobbit, after all. I’m half certain I’d mess it up. Or at least mess something up.”

Bilbo arched a brow and smiled. “Actually, you might be all right. A lot of the lads and lasses who are chosen for the role of the God and Goddess get a bit nervous because they were chosen and agreed to partake in a fertility ritual. Some think they won’t be able to get aroused, some fear that they’ll mess something up, but not once has there been any issue before. I don’t think you need to worry, Fili.”

Fili nodded, looking a little less pale.

Bilbo thought it best not to mention that, often, the pair chosen to represent the God and Goddess ended up getting married.

Good for relations with the Dwarves, he supposed, but that would perhaps be about it. How Fili’s subjects would take it aside, the lass that was chosen to be Yavanna this year probably wouldn’t like the idea of leaving the Shire to live in Erebor as a Queen of Dwarves. Her parents would like it less as it would mean they’d not see her for years, if ever again.

“If you change your mind, there’s no shame in it,” he assured him.

“Thanks, Bilbo. I think I’ll manage.”

“If it helps,” Kili began, “You won’t be the only Dwarf there. When in Gondor, do as the Gondorians.”

Bilbo sniggered, watching them affectionately as Fili begged Kili to shut up.

“You know there’s more to it than an orgy, right?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes, but that sounds like the most fun part,” Kili answered. “I mean, sure, there’s also feasting and dancing and drinking.”

“Which I’m grateful for,” Fili said, going back to his book.

“But I for one almost died a virgin. I’m not letting more time than necessary pass.”

“You realize you _can_ get the lass pregnant,” Bilbo reminded him.

“Yes, but will I know?” Kili asked in a manner that suggested he was trying to make a point.

“Probably. Bofur might have more luck in that, if his family’s as fertile as he claims,” Bilbo reminded him.

“It is,” Fili said.

“He’s five nieces and ten nephews,” Kili elaborated. “Bombur’s ridiculously fertile. We still don’t know what he does.”

“He claims it’s because he always eats.”

“I doubt that.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Bilbo drummed his fingers against his desk as the boys talked.

_Please let this not be a dream._

#

Thrimidge Day arrived.

All the Hobbits in the Shire gathered at the party tree, helping put tables together, banners and poles dug deep into the earth. Music played, carrying on the wind around the talk and laughter. Children danced and played games as the adults finished decorating and handling food.

The Dwarves, wanting to participate in every way they could, also helped. It gave them a reason to converse, get to know Bilbo’s neighbors and relations, and learn a little more about the festival.

After the tables and decoration was set, they watched the children dance around a maypole, laughing and giggling when they bumped into each other in miscalculated weaves.

“Looks fun,” Thorin said, sitting beside Bilbo with a full plate in one hand and a goblet in the other.

“It’s very fun,” he said. “Though it does take more concentration than one might expect to get the weave right.”

“The lasses are moving clockwise, I noted,” Thorin said. “And the lads counterclockwise.”

Bilbo nodded. “All while trying to avoid each other. Granted, us adults will have their own maypole dance later. No less clumsy, though.”

“Good,” Thorin said. “I’m afraid my lot aren’t going to be very talented at it.”

“You’ll fit right in, then,” Bilbo assured him, gently ribbing him with his elbow. “The less child-friendly activities don’t begin until the fires are lit. By then, the parents will have ushered all the little ones to bed. The tweens will _try_ to sneak in, but most of us are able to catch them before the Night begins.”

“I suppose some Hobbits act as guards, then?”

“Actually, yes.” Bilbo took a gulp of ale. “Often the parents of said tweens. For instance, the mothers will lead the little ones home while the fathers stand guard at the ready in case some tween gets in their head to sneak in. Our culture…well, it’s considered a belief that the age of consent is the age one comes into their majority. As far as I know, everyone in the company is of age.”

“I wouldn’t have allowed our younger companions to join the quest otherwise,” Thorin agreed. “Ori and Kili are the youngest two. They came of age five years before the quest.”

“Oh good,” Bilbo sighed.

Never hurt to check. He’d be horrified if he had encouraged them to participate without being of proper consenting age.

“In that case, we needn’t worry much. Most tweens know not to bother. They tend to go and have their own little celebrations with each other.”

“Is that allowed?”

“For tweens to experiment? Of course. It’s encouraged for them to experiment. How else would you know what you like or don’t like?”

“And arranged marriages? Such as your cousins?”

“Prim and Drogo? Well, they wouldn’t be able to be together, yet,” Bilbo agreed. “Drogo’s of age. If he wanted, he could participate with any lady he wished tonight, and it wouldn’t be considered adultery. As it is, Drogo’s a bit more of noble stock anyway. I don’t think he’d want to participate anyway.”

“I did it last year,” Drogo stated, sitting across from Bilbo. “So, it’s not like I’d be missing out on anything. Besides, even if it isn’t adulterous, I’m a bit afraid of old Broadbelt…”

Bilbo snorted, spitting ale onto the lawn.

“Who?” Thorin asked, brow furrowed.

“Gorbadoc Brandybuck,” Bilbo clarified hoarsely. “Primula’s father and my uncle. He goes by Broadbelt, you see. Master of Buckland and all that. And he’s not that scary.”

“You are not marrying his youngest daughter!” Drogo declared. “I am! I have to go to tea and dinner and lunch and what have you with him and Mirabella.”

“Do they give you grief?”

“Loads.”

“Wonderful!”

“Don’t sound cheery! One misstep and you’ll need to find another heir because I’ll be dead! Stop laughing, Bilbo!”

“Ow, my ribs,” Bilbo gasped, sliding off his chair.

Thorin sipped his ale, watching the scene between the cousins with amusement and fondness. He turned to the children, watching them try and weave around their maypole. A few others were dancing to the music. Including Kili –

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, turning to him. “Where’s Fili?”

Bilbo sat up, schooling his laughter so he could speak. “Getting ready for tonight, I’d reckon,” he told him. “He did tell you that he was asked to partake in the more ritualistic part, didn’t he?”

“He touched on it, yes,”

Bilbo sighed. “He ought to have done _more_ than just _touch_ on it.”

“Maybe he was embarrassed,” Drogo said. “It’s not something Dwarves are used to, after all, so…”

“Ah, good point.”

“All in all, you don’t need to worry about Fili.”

“Oh! Speaking of, I found out who’s going to be the Goddess tonight,” Drogo said, grinning. They turned to him. “Regina Took.” (3)

Bilbo hummed.

“Another cousin?” Thorin asked.

“Recently of age, same as Drogo. A descendant of the Thain, so certainly high born.”

“A princess, then?”

“The Thain isn’t a King,” Drogo said.

“Give it up, Drogo,” Bilbo sighed. “It’s difficult enough to explain.” He turned to Thorin. “In a sense, Regina is a princess, but it would be terribly impolite to say so.” He could tell Thorin wasn’t entirely certain with that explanation. Bilbo patted his arm. “It would be politer to call her ‘my lady,’” he said.

“I think I’ll need more ale if I’m going to try to understand Hobbit politics,” Thorin decided.

“You’re the one who decided to move here!” Bilbo snapped.

Thorin grinned. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to need another ale, _Ghivashel_.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Have you at least had a chance to shag him yet?” Drogo asked.

“Hoping for it tonight,” Bilbo said. “As most of the company will be _here_ for the orgy.” He winked at Drogo, who rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself. So, you’re engaged. I don’t think Gorbadoc will actually do anything to you if you decide to have some fun tonight. You’re not expected to abstain for the next decade, Drogo.”

“You are under a spell or in denial.”

“Or I just get along with my Brandybuck kin.”

“Or you don’t know how evil he really is!”

#

No matter what he did, Fili couldn’t seem to relax. His heart beat wildly and he trembled. He mentally berated himself. It wasn’t as though he was still a virgin! Likely the Hobbitess he was expected to bed tonight wasn’t a virgin either.

The books he read on the ceremony itself never clarified if either of them had to be or not, but he supposed _not_.

It never came up between him and the Thain (thankfully…that’d be an awkward conversation to have with someone he didn’t know…), so Fili assumed it was not important.

Right.

There.

He exhaled heavily and stretched, his joints snapping a little bit.

“Ouch. That sounded quite painful.”

Fili whipped around, reaching for his sword only to find – and remember a couple seconds later – that he had not brought it as he wouldn’t need it.

The Hobbit arched her eyebrows at him, and Fili blushed.

“Erm…no. It didn’t hurt, actually. Feels better than it sounds. I guess.”

She smiled gently at him. Fili half thought she was laughing at him, but he didn’t know why she would.

“Can I help you, Ma’am?”

“Miss,” she corrected. “And no. I’m supposed to wait here, too.”

“Oh.” At first, he didn’t quite understand why she would need to be there, still feeling rather anxious. Then he looked at her again, eyes wide. “ _Oh_.”

She grinned brightly. “Finely figured it out.”

“Yeah…sorry. I’m a bit nervous.” _Am I not a king?! Shouldn’t I be more confident than this?!_

“Understandable,” she said. “I’m a bit nervous, too.” She held her hand out to him. “Regina Took, Daughter of Adalgrim Took.”

Fili took her hand in his. “Fili, Sister-son of Thorin, Son of Thrain.”

“One of Master Baggins’ Dwarves, I take it?”

“I am. To be honest, I didn’t know they’d let us meet before tonight.”

Regina nodded. “It’s so that we aren’t going in completely blind. It’s supposed to help, getting to know each other a little bit. Makes it easier to perform, or something like that. Not sure how well that works, but it doesn’t hurt to at least know.”

Fili agreed.

Silence fell between them, giving Fili a chance to observe Regina. She had brown eyes and black curly hair. Her nose was dotted in cute freckles that were accentuated by her rosy cheeks. Her lips were bright pink. Her hair was pulled back by a satin ribbon in blue, revealing pointed ears.

His gaze lowered, settling on her chest. It wasn’t large, but neither was it small. Somewhere in between. And hidden by a white blouse with flowers stitched along the hem and collar. Lower she wore a green skirt. Emerald green, likely.

Her feet weren’t as large as Bilbo’s – likely because she was female rather than male – but still much bigger than his own with thick black hair covering from the ankles to the toe knuckles.

Dwarven standards of beauty differed from Hobbit standards, so while Fili wasn’t entirely sure, he supposed Regina was perhaps considered an epitome of feminine beauty for her people.

Given her surname was Took, he supposed she was related to the Thain, so in a way, she was a princess of her people. (Though Bilbo would likely whack him atop the head for making that comparison.)

“Like what you see?”

Fili blushed. “Yes,” he said. “Very much.”

He had thought that was the right thing to say and was glad to find that it was: Regina beamed.

“You’re not bad looking yourself.” She winked and turned to him, pulling one of her legs up under the opposite thigh. “Tell me more about yourself, Fili.”

#

Some of the company helped usher the children home as the sun began to set. Once certain every child was back with their mother and father, Bilbo took Thorin’s hand in his own and kissed him.

“Ready to go home?”

“Dare I ask what you’ve in store for me, Master Baggins?”

“Oh, I think you’ll like it,” Bilbo assured him, beaming up at him. “I think you’ll _really_ like it, my love.”

“Lead the way, then,” Thorin said. Bilbo pulled him back to Bag End.

The bonfires were lit long before they returned. The priests and priestesses were ululating and singing as couples formed below around the party tree and the fires.

The cries and shouts were muffled somewhat once the door to Bag End closed.

Bilbo gripped Thorin’s hair in his hands, pulling the taller man down to meet his lips. Thorin returned the kiss, pushing Bilbo against the door and caging him there with his arms on either side of him.

Thorin nipped at Bilbo’s lips, pulling him into his embrace, growling in Khuzdul. Bilbo broke away and pulled Thorin away from the door, directing him to his bedroom.

Once in the solitude of the room, Bilbo nearly slammed the door shut in his haste to be alone with his Dwarf again. Thorin seized him around the waist and lifted him with ease.

“Oi! Feet on the ground, Thorin! Put me down!”

Thorin dropped Bilbo onto the bed and climbed on top of him, grinning ferally. Bilbo’s heart beat rapidly against his ribcage.

He half expected to wake as if from a dream.

Thank whatever god or goddess that would listen that he never woke. Bilbo ran his fingers through Thorin’s hair again, pulling him down so to kiss him. Thorin hummed, running his hands over Bilbo’s ribs before settling on his hips.

“Slower,” Thorin whispered. “I would savor you, _Ghivashel_.”

“Do you think so?” Bilbo asked. “Sometimes I fear I’m dreaming. I fear you’re not here. That you did die in that battle.”

“I’m here,” Thorin assured him. “I am alive, _Ghivasha._ And I will admit I fear the same sometimes. That I will wake in Erebor, as if I never left. No. If this is a dream, I would sleep for eternity rather than wake to another morning without you by my side.”

“Sap.”

“Only for you.”

Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo’s, whispering Khuzdul endearments in his ear. Bilbo shifted so to capture Thorin’s lips with his own and pushed against Thorin’s shoulders till they turned over.

Bilbo straddled Thorin’s waist, pulling at the buttons on his weskit. Thorin ran his palms over Bilbo’s thighs as he watched him undress. Once Bilbo’s torso was bare, Thorin sat up and kissed Bilbo’s clavicle.

Bilbo’s fingers tangled in Thorin’s hair and Thorin moved down to kiss Bilbo’s breast, feeling and hearing the beat of his heart. Bilbo shivered at Thorin’s lighter touches.

At first, Thorin hesitated, so Bilbo reassured him he was all right, that he was enjoying himself, and to keep going. Thorin’s touches became surer, easing into using his tongue and his teeth.

Bilbo tugged at Thorin’s hair, pulling him away from his chest so to kiss him, nibbling at Thorin’s lower lip and pulling forth some very erotic sounds from deep in Thorin’s throat.

He moved his hands away from Thorin’s hair to pull the tunic off. The kiss paused as Thorin’s tunic joined Bilbo’s weskit and shirt on the floor.

Bilbo slid his hand against Thorin’s bulge, swallowing the moan slipping through his lover’s lips. He rubbed and kneaded, feeling Thorin’s length grow and harden beneath his trousers.

Bilbo pushed Thorin down till he lay prone on the bed. Bilbo kissed a trail down Thorin’s torso and stomach, playing with the laces of Thorin’s breeches and pulling the knot free before tugging them down Thorin’s legs, licking the straining cock still caught in Thorin’s small clothes.

Thorin cursed, legs parting, as Bilbo teased him with his tongue. Bilbo grinned and kissed along the length before – finally – deciding to take Thorin in his mouth entirely.

The pants were pulled down just enough to release Thorin’s cock and Bilbo took the head into his mouth. Another curse slipped from Thorin’s mouth.

He seized Bilbo’s hair, growling Khuzdul as Bilbo slid down the length and back up, spittle dripping down his chin and Thorin’s cock.

“You mean to torment me,” Thorin accused when Bilbo released him at last.

“I have no intention of tormenting you,” Bilbo reassured him. “But I think I would like to ride your cock, so I need to finish undressing, myself. And get the oil from the nightstand so I can prepare myself.”

He grinned at Thorin, watching his Adam’s apple bob and the already large pupils widen just a little more.

“Carry on, then.”

“Oh, but of course, your majesty.”

Bilbo stood on his knees as he loosened his own trousers and small clothes, tossing them to the ground with the rest of their clothes. He straddled Thorin again, stretching for the left side nightstand’s drawer.

Thorin pulled Bilbo closer to his face, closing his mouth around Bilbo’s cock. Bilbo gasped, forgetting his task for a moment as he fought to regain some stability in the onslaught of Thorin’s tongue, cursing. Once the shock ebbed a little, Bilbo returned to retrieving the vial of oil.

“Got it.”

Thorin hummed and Bilbo groaned, shuddering as chills crept up his spine. Thorin kneaded his ass, spreading the cheeks wide. The pad of one finger – Bilbo wasn’t sure which – rubbed against the puckered hole. Never venturing within him but remained a promising touch.

“I was going to stretch myself,” he said as coherently as he could, forcing himself to enunciate.

Thorin hummed and sucked in tandem. Bilbo shuddered, chasing his thought.

“Unless you want to do it.”

Thorin squeezed his ass and released him. He took the oil from Bilbo and they switched positions. Bilbo hugged his pillow as Thorin drenched his crack in cool oil. Bilbo groaned and spread his legs wider.

Thorin growled appreciatively as he pressed a slick finger back against Bilbo’s hole, easing inside him. Thorin’s finger was larger than what Bilbo was used to.

Thorin pumped the digit deeper, massaging within and searching. The finger retreated, joined not long by another, loosening the muscles little by little…

Two fingers eased into three before Bilbo’s body thrummed from Thorin’s fingers stroking his prostate. Thorin’s fingers rubbed against the nub, igniting every spark it could, like fireworks.

“Fuck me,” Bilbo demanded. “Right now.”

Thorin pressed his lips to the shell of Bilbo’s left ear and darted his tongue along the pinna. Bilbo gasped, squeezing around the fingers. Thorin closed his mouth around the shell of Bilbo’s ear and sucked.

“Oh, f-fuck! Thorin, I’m…I’m gonna cum too soon if you keep…please don’t want…please…”

Thorin’s other hand reached around, gripping Bilbo’s cock and stroked. He released Bilbo’s ear to kiss his neck.

“I want you to cum, _Ghivashel_.” He whispered. “I want you sated. I want you to be sensitive when I enter you. And when I am done, you’ll be too weak to move.”

Bilbo gasped as he spurted over Thorin’s hand. He felt Thorin grin and the press of fingers against his prostate, milking his orgasm till Bilbo had nothing more within him but to shiver and nearly weep from overstimulation. Thorin pulled his fingers free and loosened his grip around Bilbo’s cock.

“Relax, _amrâlimê_ ,” he whispered, rubbing his hands over Bilbo’s back. Bilbo moaned, glancing at Thorin over his shoulder. Though his eyes were dark, his face was calm.

“I was going to ride you,” Bilbo recalled.

He wouldn’t be able to now. His legs refused to work right now. They felt heavy sinking into the mattress.

“You were,” Thorin agreed. “We’ve all the time in the world now, so don’t worry about that. Let me take care of you.”

He kissed Bilbo’s shoulder and eased his cock inside. Bilbo gripped his pillow tightly, gasping at the intrusion.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Bilbo assured him, loosening one hand so it could take hold of Thorin’s. “I’m fine. Fuck me.”

Thorin eased deeper inside him till he was fully seated.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you,” he said, almost questioning.

“I will.”

Thorin did not thrust hard or quick. He was ever gentle and cautious, like he didn’t even trust his own control. He likely wouldn’t have gone faster if not for Bilbo urging him on, reassuring Thorin he wouldn’t break him.

Bilbo felt his cock twitch, attempting to reawaken. He pushed back on Thorin’s cock, reaching between his legs for a little added stimulation. Maybe he’d be able to cum again. He didn’t know if it was possible, but he’d certainly give it a good try.

Thorin’s breath ghosted over his back. He could feel his lips form words against his skin. Bilbo twisted his torso and pulled Thorin’s hair, trying to pull him closer to his face so he could kiss him. Hard to do when one’s back was to their lover, but not impossible.

Thorin responded to Bilbo’s kiss, nipping his lower lip. Bilbo gasped as he managed another orgasm. It was not anywhere near as intense as the first, but it was enough.

He clenched around Thorin, feeling him release inside him as well, hips stuttering as he attempted to ride it out. At last, the sensations calmed and Thorin pulled free from Bilbo before rolling onto his back.

“Still the best lay I’ve ever had,” Bilbo teased. Thorin snorted.

“Good. From here on, I hope to be the only one you’ll have.”

Bilbo smiled at him. “I think that can be arranged. Merry Thrimidge Day, Thorin.”

Thorin wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him just a little closer. “Merry Thrimidge Day, _Ghivashel._ _Amrâlimê_.”

“Love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> (1) Midyear’s Day
> 
> (2) Beltane, traditionally May 1st. Thrimidge is the month that falls between OUR calendar days of April 22-May 21. The orgy described to take place during this time is inspired by “The Mists of Avalon.”
> 
> (3) The four daughters of Adalgrim Took: Regina (1308), Luna (1317), Bianca (1325), and Esmerelda (1336) – all but Esmerelda are original characters. We know he had 3 daughters before Paladin (1333), but we don’t know their names
> 
> Sources:
> 
> http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Shire_Calendar 
> 
> The Mists of Avalon Book 1: The Mistress of Magic
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thinking of going into the orgy part of the fic that was skipped over for the Bagginshield. Mainly the part between Fili and Regina, so while the fic is finished, I might add another chapter soon as a sort of deleted scene.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Deleted" Scene. I say "deleted" but it's really just taking place around the same time Bilbo and Thorin have sex.

The Priests and Priestesses started the bonfires just as the sun vanished behind the mountains in the West. There were four fires at the cardinal directions, making a circle around the party tree. Set up around the tree was a circle of white, yellow, and pink flowers. Within the circle was a soft, white blanket.

Seated there, legs tucked underneath her, was Regina. She had changed into a gown of white silk. Her ebony hair lay loose down her back and shoulders, garnered in the same flowers around the makeshift altar. Her mask was a light spring green, covering the top of her face. Fili had been given attire of black and grey. His mask was red and orange, resembling fire.

While he could avoid looking at the couples forming around them, he couldn’t block out the sounds. Still, he strode over to Regina’s side and knelt beside her. He pinched her chin and pulled her into a kiss. She hummed into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tongue slid against his mouth and he parted his lips to slide his tongue against hers, deepening the kiss.

Fili’s heart rammed in chest as eased Regina down to lay on her back. He slid his hand underneath the dress skirt, gently running his fingers along her groin. She parted her legs and whispered reassurances. Fili swallowed and eased two fingers inside her. She was warm and wet.

Regina let go of Fili, pulling her gown up till her legs were bare. Fili moved his fingers, stretching and easing, feeling her wine seem to gush free. A part of him desired to taste it, but he didn’t think this ritual was for that.

Later, then.

If she would have him.

Fili kissed her as he added a third finger. Regina mewled, clutching onto his shoulders as he massaged her, the pad of his thumb running circles around her sex.

“Now,” she commanded, reminding him that there was more still to do before the end of the ritual.

Somewhere around them, a woman shrieked. Fili tensed, ready to come to her aid. Regina held him tight, as if she knew what had distracted him.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes we ladies tend to scream when we’re happy or pleased. She’s fine. Okay?”

Fili nodded, swallowing.

Regina moved her hands down his chest and abdomen. Her fingers tackled his breeches, unlacing the string and pulling them down till he was free. She stroked his cock with soft, sure fingers. Fili bit back a moan and surged forward, thrusting into her hand.

Regina kissed him and guided him inside her. She winced. Fili feared he had hurt her.

“Reg—”

“I’m all right,” she assured him. “You’re larger than I’m used to. That’s all.”

Regina wiggled in his arms, trying to get used to his girth. Fili’s muscles tensed from refusal to move until commanded to. She relaxed at last and smiled at him.

“You can move.”

Like a snapped coil, Fili moved. He tried to keep his control, tried to remember that this was not some random hook up he was used to having met at the inn. Still, each thrust grew surer. Regina’s eye shut and she moaned, flowers in her hair crushing under her head. Fili latched onto her neck, nipping at the pale flesh.

He was getting close, so he pushed his hand between them and listened to Regina’s breath quicken as he massaged her sex. He felt her tense around him, squeezing his cock as he pumped inside her. She cried out, shaking and back arched almost painfully. Fili groaned as his release filled inside her.

Fili eased Regina back down, stroking her arms. They both breathed hard, unable to speak. Disconnecting from her left him feeling more sensitive than he ever thought he’d been before. Still, he did so, and covered her lower body again.

Regina giggled. “A gentle-dwarf as well as a king,” she concluded.

“Were you expecting me to be a brute?” he asked, frowning as he also covered himself.

“No, but I wouldn’t have been surprised,” Regina said, settling in the crook of his arm. “So, consider me pleasantly surprised.”

Somewhere else around the circle, another woman shrieked, followed by giggling laughter between her and her lover. Fili ignored it this time.

“You’re sure everyone’s all right?”

Regina giggled and smiled at him. “I’m positive. If there was an issue, I think the priests and priestesses would have intervened. Everyone here is here because they desire to be. Even you. Nervous as you were.” She eased up onto one elbow. “So, can I rightly assume we’ll be meeting up again later? Perhaps in a more private setting?”

Fili grinned. He wanted to remove their masks but wasn’t certain he should yet. Especially since Regina still wore hers.

“If you’ll want me,” he said. “My companions and I leave at the end of the month.”

“Two weeks more, then,” Regina concluded. She kissed Fili, fingers playing at the strings of his tunic. Fili hummed into her kiss.

Likely they’d be the best two weeks of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIli came off more nervous than I wanted him to, but I think he did well. Go Fili!


End file.
